


The Best Defense is a Good Offense.

by gala_apples



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship
Genre: Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Drunkenness, Embarrassment, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-29
Updated: 2012-08-29
Packaged: 2017-11-13 03:05:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not like Gabe wanted to be caught crossdressing. But since he is, he might as well use it to his best advantage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Defense is a Good Offense.

The nice thing about it is he can mostly fit into Victoria’s clothes. Sure he’s taller than her, by at least half a foot. Maybe less if she cheats and wears heels, but since it’s not actual leg height, it shouldn’t count. But really, the six inches don’t mean much when he’s borrowing a skirt, just that an already sexy hemline rises a few inches. Gabe can deal with that. Semi-sluttiness is better than getting caught with his own women’s clothing in a suitcase.

Finders keepers being established, he still has a few borrowing lines. Wearing Victoria’s panties is a step too far, a line he won’t cross. At first Gabe tries going out with no underwear. He quickly deems it a failure, when he dances his dick moves around too much, and considering the length and tightness of the skirts that’s not a good thing. Besides there’s really not a lot of difference between wearing Victoria’s underwear and rubbing his dick all over the inside of her skirt.

He can’t wear men’s underwear. Or he won’t. The line between can’t and won’t is thin as hell, slightly different definitions not a concern of his. Luckily having a pair or two of women’s panties in the pile of clothes on his bed is easily explained away. The first time Alex asked he went into great detail about the ladies that left them behind, and aside from being marginally impressed by Gabe managing a threesome in a bunk nobody thought to question him. Being what he likes to call a Lothario and others like to call a slut has it’s perks.

It’s not like he thinks he’s actually passing. He knows he’s too tall to be convincing, legs too thick, a dozen other small things that add up to definitely not a female. His body is too much of a rectangle, even if he could somehow explain a corset in his luggage he probably still wouldn’t be the proper hourglass. But Gabe takes what he can get. He might not be feminine but he can be hot. He won’t ever be a woman, but he can be a hit drag queen. Or at least he could if he was ever in the same city for more than one night. It’s hard to gather a court of wispy fags in love with him when he’s only there a night.

Logically speaking, it was bound to happen sooner or later. They have the same tastes in music, they couldn’t really have a fucking band if they didn’t. It makes sense that one of them would eventually spend the few free hours before bus call at the same bar. Sense or not though, Gabe panics when he sees the lanky form standing at the bar. He doesn’t have to be close enough to hear him shouting over the music to know what he’s ordering. Ryland’s not a particularly picky guy when it comes to alcohol, he’ll take what’s available, but when he has the choice it’s always a Ceasar's.

The problem is, the door is past the bar. For Gabe to escape he needs to pass close enough to Ryland that he could lick his face. That kind of proximity isn’t good for keeping his anonymity. So Gabe dances, careful to do his best to keep his body turned away from him. From the back he’s just another drag queen, nothing shocking or even interesting for a guy that lived in New York.

Gabe can tell the minute Ryland spots him. He sees through the wig immediately, of course. It’s not even a good one, just a Halloween one. No sense in bringing something that expensive on tour where he couldn’t keep maintenance on it. Gabe considers trying to weave through the crowd and get the fuck away for a minute before discarding the idea. It’s not going to help anything, Ryland will still know, it’ll just make him seem ashamed. And while he’s embarrassed, he’s not fucking _ashamed_. That is a difference of definition he cares about.

Ryland has his priorities, of course. He finishes slamming down the drink before crossing the room. He skips formal greetings, goes straight for “What the fuck are you wearing?”

Gabe knows the best way to meet an offensive pattern is by also playing the offensive. It’ll be easier to bulldoze Ryland than try to go on defense and explain what it is about outfits like these that he likes. “You’d wear Sponge Bob pyjamas your whole life if you could. Who cares if I want to wear a skirt?”

Judging by the slow shake of his head, Ryland doesn’t buy it. His words confirm that. “There’s such a huge fuckin’ difference Gabe. There are pictures of me online in pyjamas and no one cares. What do you think would happen if this got leaked?”

Gabe says as confidently as he can “everyone would think it was a joke.”

Ryland shakes his head. “Not like this. You look like you’re trying.”

In another situation that would be a compliment. In this it’s bad, it takes Gabe out of the mindset dressing up puts him in and drops him straight back into paparazzi and record deals and fangirls and all the other crap he almost always loves, but sometimes just wants a break from.

“You do know that people would fuck you if you weren’t a girl. Me, for example.”

What the fuck? Is he drunk? “Are you on something?” his voice comes out more incredulously than it should, they’re in their twenties, it’s practically mandatory that they’re on something at all times.

Ryland blinks at him, and Gabe’s brain roars at him to go hard on the offense. “So you’re saying you wouldn’t have sex with me like this?”

“What?” Ryland takes a fraction too long answering even considering the alcohol lag. “No.”

“Really? You know I have a dick under this skirt, you’ve seen me changing a thousand times. Don’t you think I could fuck you hard with it? Make you scream?” So it’s not exactly a chunk of new knowledge that Ryland’s gay. Gabe hasn’t propositioned him before, this is still entirely new territory.

Ryland stares at him, blinking slowly as he tries to get his thoughts in order. He finally replies “not if you’re wearing a skirt.”

It seems like a stupid counter to Gabe. “Why not? If I fucked you from behind, my entire body rubbing against you as you rutted against the wall trying to get that right twist of friction, you wouldn’t even see a bit of fabric hiked up on my waist.”

Ryland’s blushing and Gabe is positive it’s equal parts embarrassment and arousal. He goes with his gut instinct, which is telling him to push it. Not just for blackmail, although it’s likely Ryland won’t tell anyone what he saw if he gets off on it. It’s because he’s never gotten someone off with just talking. It seemed like bullshit in porn, no one’s voice is that good. Especially not their voices, throats ravaged by years of sucking cock. Apparently Ryland likes dirty talk though, at least when he’s drunk, and Gabe wants to see if he can do what they do in porn. It’s a matter of pride, or something.

He moves in closer, close enough to rub himself against Ryland, bare leg against his denim jeans. When he tucks his head to whisper in Ryland’s ear, strands of his wig stick to his sweaty face. “And if I fucked you against that wall you’d have to look down to see my skirt, and I bet then you’d get distracted with watching my huge cock pound into your tight ass, wouldn’t you? You wouldn’t even see the green, you’d just see me fucking you, you’d see how much your body wanted it-”

Ryland shoves him away, face crimson. “Stop it. I’m going back to the bus. I won’t tell anyone, but you need to stop this.”

Gabe grins to himself as he watches Ryland stumble towards the exit. He already knows Ryland’s not going to tell anyone. But he’s sure he can get better than that. Maybe in a few nights he’ll follow Ryland, wearing one of Victoria’s nicest dresses. Ryland wants this, and will admit to it sooner or later. He just needs to find the right strategy.


End file.
